


like the books

by crunchrapsupreme



Series: girl scouts, greek gods, and car washes [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bondage, Dirty Talk, M/M, Religion Kink, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crunchrapsupreme/pseuds/crunchrapsupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean would be lying if he said he hadn’t jacked off almost every night since then, fantasizing about Marco and his dumb freckles and his sinful mouth and dexterous fingers, working him open, making him fall to pieces. Jean would be lying if he said his body wasn’t fucking craving for a repeat of that day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like the books

**Author's Note:**

> birthday porn for my friend nat! set a few weeks after blow me dry 8)
> 
> also posted on my [tumblr!](http://crunchrapsupreme.tumblr.com/post/86020800653/like-the-books-jean-marco-highschool-au-nsfw)  
> !

It’s practically stifling in his room, despite the fact he has the fan blowing on full blast, the window open to air out the muggy heat even though outside isn’t much better. Jean wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, a light sheen of sweat coating his skin, and he makes a face as he wipes his hand on the sheets. His laptop is warm in his lap, and though he’s in a pair of shorts and a tank top, hair pushed out of his face, he  _still_  can’t cool the fuck off.

He’s interrupted from his distress when a small pebble comes flying through his open window, bouncing off the sill and skidding to a halt on the carpet next to Jean’s bed. He eyes it warily, slowly closing his laptop and setting it on his desk as he carefully makes his way towards the open window.

A pebble hits him square on the forehead as soon as he walks up and bends down to look out the window, and he winces and glares down at the perpetrator.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, Jean!” Marco says, but Jean can tell he’s trying to stifle a laugh. “I was just trying to get your attention.”

“Why can’t you use the doorbell like everyone else?” Jean mutters, but he can’t help the tinge of red coloring his cheeks because a really fucking attractive boy just threw pebbles at his window to get his attention. Like some sort of fucking dumb teen romance novel or some shit. It’s kind of surreal, so Jean shakes the thoughts away and instead motions to his front door.

“It’s unlocked,” he says, and when Marco flashes him a dorky thumbs up, Jean ducks back inside his room quickly, trying to still his drumming heartbeat.

They’ve been texting, talking on the phone and what not, but Jean hasn’t seen him since that day Marco came over and helped him - ah, with his  _car_. Jean would be lying if he said he hadn’t jacked off almost every night since then fantasizing about Marco and his dumb freckles and his sinful mouth and dexterous fingers, working him open, making him fall to pieces. Jean would be lying if he said his body wasn’t fucking craving for a repeat of that day.

So he’s insanely surprised that Marco is at his house right now, because he hadn’t texted Jean and warned him he was coming over or anything like that. He just…. showed up. Jean can’t say that he’s not happy, but he’s still kind of skeptical. Marco is still kind of sort of a stranger. An acquaintance, more like. An acquaintance who he’s had sexual relations with.  

Yeah.

The bedroom door creaks when Marco enters, and Jean criss crosses his legs from his position seated on his bed, feeling nervous and jittery.

And when Marco turns around, it’s then that Jean finally notices what he’s wearing. It’s a school uniform from that religious private high school down the road from his own. A green blazer, khaki pants, white button up shirt and green tie. It even has a pocket handkerchief with the school’s crest sewn on the front.

Marco looks insanely fucking good in a private school uniform, and Jean is suddenly acutely aware of how he looks right now, in an old ratty tank top that probably has holes in it, a pair of grungy basketball shorts, and hair damp with sweat, pushed back from his forehead and cheeks probably flushed from the heat.

Marco looks composed and like the heat isn’t even affecting him at all. It’s not fair that Marco gets to look this goddamn good without warning Jean first or something, and Jean bites his lip, crossing his arms over his chest as Marco closes the bedroom door behind him.

“It’s Saturday,” Jean realizes aloud suddenly, eyeing Marco carefully. “Why the hell are you in your school uniform?”

“I have bible studies on Saturday,” Marco says, grinning as he walks towards the bed, shedding his blazer and tossing it onto Jean’s computer chair. He kneels on the edge of the bed, and suddenly his face is so close that Jean can feel warm puffs of air against his face as Marco whispers,

“I haven’t stopped thinking about the noises you made.” His voice is breathy, rough and intense and Jean feels his eyes widen when Marco leans on the bed further. “Haven’t stopped thinking about the way you arched up, desperate for my mouth.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jean says, because how the hell does Marco manage to go from ‘sweet boy-next-door’ to ‘expert porn star’ in less than two seconds tops?

Marco’s words go straight to Jean’s crotch, and his shorts suddenly feel much tighter than before. Marco’s leaning forward again, but instead of going for his lips, he tilts Jean’s head to the side and licks a hot stripe up his neck. Jean shivers, letting out a quiet gasp, and one hand reaches up unconsciously to grip the front of Marco’s dress shirt, fisting the fabric in his hand.

“Hey,” Marco mumbles against his skin, reaching to untangle Jean’s fingers from his shirt. “Don’t wanna wrinkle that, now do we?”

Jean stays silent, terrifyingly aware of all the nerves jumping around beneath his skin when Marco grips Jean’s hips and hefts him further up on the bed, stretching out his legs before crawling in between them. He’s still in his khakis and dress shirt and tie, but the sleeves of his button up have been rolled up to his elbows and Jean’s pretty sure he’s never seen anything more attractive. His life is  _totally_  unfair.

Jean bites his knuckle on a groan when Marco starts palming him through his shorts, letting out another gasp when Marco uses his other hand to tug Jean’s hand away, an eager look in his eyes as he says,

“Don’t, I wanna hear you.”

It’s sweet and lustful at the same time, and oh, Jean is  _so_  fucked.

He shimmies down until he’s lying on his back, and Marco scoots up until he’s looming over him, and when he finally leans down to press their lips together, it feels like taking a breath of fresh air after being held underwater for hours.

He wraps his arms around Marco’s neck, breathing out sharply through his nose as Marco grinds his hips languidly down against his now completely hard cock. Kissing Marco is just as breathtaking as it was the first time, except this time they’re on a soft mattress instead of bumpy car seats with seat belt buckles digging into their bodies. This time, they’re in the privacy of his bedroom and his parents are out running errands and  _shit_ , Marco totally just removed Jean’s shorts in one fluid motion.

Jean blinks, suddenly naked from the waist down because it was too fucking hot to wear boxers so of course he was going commando under those shorts. Marco seems to appreciate that because his eyes sort of darken just a fraction, and then he’s ducking down, taking Jean’s cock in his throat all the way to the hilt.

“Oh,  _fuck_ ,” Jean moans, tossing his head back against the sheets in surprise as Marco swallows around him, digging fingers into his thighs to hold him still as Jean trembles beneath him. He tenses up and then lets out a slow breath of protest when Marco pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before inching Jean’s tank top up his torso.

A brief kiss right above his belly button causes Jean to jerk slightly, and then Marco’s mouth is trailing up higher, dragging his tank top with him until his nipples are exposed, and then Marco’s mouth is latched onto one, sucking and biting and swirling it around with his tongue until Jean is twitching below him, soft pants falling from his lips.

“Marco,” Jean breathes, and Marco noses up his throat, pressing a soft, sweet kiss against his jaw.

“Hm?”

“Will you - I mean,” Jean flushes, biting his lip, and Marco finally pulls away to look at his face, which makes Jean even more flustered as he says, “Can you fuck me?”

Marco’s eyes grow fond, and he ducks down again, fingers splayed against Jean’s ribs as he kisses him deeply, desperately, doing something with his tongue that’s causing Jean’s body to turn to putty.

“Not yet,” Marco says against his lips, and suddenly Jean finds himself being flipped over, face down against the sheets and wrists held tight behind his back by Marco. Jean hears the shuffling of fabric, the gentle swish of silk being pulled through cotton, and then Marco’s wrapping his goddamned school tie around Jean’s wrists, binding him with his arms behind his back. Warm breath near his ear causes Jean to jump slightly.

“This okay?” Marco asks quietly, and Jean wants to groan because Marco keeps pulling these back and forths where he’ll be the shining example of seductive and then turn into this sweet and caring generous lover that has Jean wanting him even more.

“Yes,” Jean responds after a few seconds, biting his lip on a smile as he turns his head against the pillow. “This is incredibly fucking okay.”

He feels Marco press a smile to the back of his neck, and then he trails his lips down the knobs of Jean’s spine, his tank top still bunched up right below his now bound arms, and Jean lets himself relax against the bed, feeling exposed but trusting as Marco lifts his hips until Jean’s knees are pressed into the bed, ass raised slightly up into the air, and the position makes Jean flush down to his toes because he doesn’t even want to imagine what he looks like right now.

Jean’s half expecting Marco to stall or tease him a little more, so when he feels two hands gripping his ass and then a tongue licking a long strip over his hole he can’t help the small surprised cry that escapes him, because  _oh_.

"You look so fucking good like this," Marco says against his skin, darting his tongue out again, wet and warm. “Been wanting to do this for so long,”

Jean’s legs are trembling, lips parted and eyes wide when Marco finally stiffens his tongue and delves inside, making obscene slurping noises that would be embarrassing and gross in any other situation. Jean’s dick twitches, a bead of precome dripping down onto the sheets below him as Marco tongue fucks him, and Jean finds himself whining against the sheets, lips shiny where he keeps darting his tongue out to wet them.

“Feel good?” Marco asks, and it’s sultry and sharp but there’s still an underlying tone of reassurance, of care, to make sure that yeah, Jean  _is_  feeling good and that Marco’s doing alright and Jean suddenly wishes his arms weren’t tied behind his back so he could turn around, cup Marco’s face, and show him just how good he’s feeling right now.

All he can do is nod, though, letting out another encouraging moan when Marco licks and prods his hole again, a hand finally reaching around to give Jean’s cock a few firm strokes. Jean practically sobs, legs shaking with the effort not to drop his hips down and grind against the mattress to get some sort of friction.

“Please, can I - ah,  _shit_ ,” Jean says, panting loudly when Marco hums against him. “Marco, Marco can I ride you?”

Marco pulls away, a string of spit following him, and he mutters a broken, “ _shit_ ,” when Jean writhes against the bed desperately.

“ _Please_ ,” Jean gets out, because he feels so empty and all he wants is Marco’s cock inside him, like, right the fuck now.

“ _Fuck_  yes,” Marco eventually responds, voice raspy and raw and so, so good. “Lemme just - ”

And then Jean hears some shuffling, and then the pop of a cap, and Jean briefly thinks about how Marco had lube in the pocket of his khakis during  _bible study_.

“Were you thinkin’ about me?” Jean pants out, suddenly feeling a strange wave of confidence as Marco rubs a single, lubed up finger over his entrance. “Were you thinking about eating me out during your goddamned bible study? Thinkin’ about fucking me senseless?”

Marco groans, pressing his forehead against Jean’s lower back as he slips a finger inside, prodding around and working him open quick and sloppy.

“Yes,  _shit_ , it was all I could fucking think about.”

“What would your priest think about you right now?” Jean says, voice cracking as Marco works in a second finger. “Fingers buried knuckle deep inside of a  _boy_. Knowing your mouth has been on my cock.”

“Let’s just say I’m going to have one hell of a confessional next week,” Marco manages, finally finding Jean’s prostate, crooking his fingers. Jean cries out, his legs giving out beneath him, and Marco massages his prostate for a few more seconds before scissoring his fingers, stretching him quickly because his cock is probably even harder than Jean’s at this point.

“C’mon,” Jean mumbles, rolling his hips against the bed, wanton and pliant, and finally, fucking  _finally_ , Marco removes his fingers, unzipping his fly and then grabbing Jean around the waist, flipping him back over and then manhandling him and positioning them both until Marco is sitting up against the headboard, Jean seated in his lap.

They look at eachother for a few moments, and when Jean darts down to kiss Marco again, Marco sighs into his mouth, bringing a hand up to cup the back of his neck. Jean’s hands are still tied behind his back, but he’s too impatient to ask Marco to untie him at the moment. Besides, being bound up like this in front of Marco,  _for_  Marco, it makes him feel warm, his blood tingling beneath his skin. Makes him feel wanted.

Marco positions his cock at Jean’s entrance again, slicked with lube already, and when he starts to push inside, Jean’s thighs tremble around Marco’s hips. Jean lets his forehead fall against Marco’s shoulder, breathing hot and wet against the side of his neck, and once he’s fully seated on Marco’s cock, he lets out a breath he’s been holding, because he feels so fucking full, Marco covering every inch of him inside and out.

“Still okay?” Marco asks, running a comforting hand through Jean’s sweaty hair, trailing down his neck softly. Jean hums in response, nodding, and then without warning he starts bouncing up and down in Marco’s lap, causing Marco to groan in surprise and grip Jean’s hips to help Jean stay upright since his arms are still tied.

“You feel so fucking good,” Marco mutters, sinking his teeth into Jean’s neck and groaning as he thrusts up to meet Jean’s hips as they roll back down, erratic and desperate, and when Jean shifts slightly, Marco cocks drives right into his prostate and Jean lets out a broken sob, arching his back as Marco’s hands anchor him from falling backwards.

“There,  _fuck_ ,” Jean says, face flushed and sweat-sheened, and Marco obeys his wishes, keeping the angle as he rocks his hips up in tandem with Jean’s. It’s messy and desperate, and Jean’s dripping with sweat and all he can smell is musk and teenage boy and  _Marco_ , his dumb fancy cologne, and when Jean presses his nose against Marco’s jaw, he smells like old pages of books, ancient words and sin and need.

It doesn’t take long for Jean to teeter on the brink of orgasm, and Marco notices because he whispers, “Yeah, c’mon, it’s okay,” his breath hot against Jean’s lips.

Jean feels his body tense, and when Marco rolls his hips right up into Jean’s prostate again, Jean lets out a loud cry, breath hitching and body jerking as he comes all over his chest and Marco’s half unbuttoned shirt.

He goes slack, whining quietly as Marco fucks up into him, hypersensitive and twitchy until Marco finally groans and comes apart, sinking his teeth into the already bruising marks on Jean’s neck. Jean gasps, let’s out a quiet, “ _oh_ ,” when Marco licks over the marks apologetically.

The familiar swish of silk sliding against itself as Marco unties Jean jerks him out of his daze, and when his arms are released, Jean groans and rolls his shoulders, finally raising up and sliding off Marco’s lap, sore and thoroughly fucked.

When he finally chances a look back up at Marco, the boy is frowning, looking down at himself, and Jean bites his lip, worried.

“What is it?”

Marco looks up at him, pouts slightly. “My shirt’s all wrinkled.”

“Oh my  _god_ ,” Jean says, exasperated. He crawls on top of Marco, rolling his eyes because  _seriously_ , Marco is fucking perfect and Jean really couldn’t ask for anything more than this dumb sex god of a sweetheart right here, below him, and when Marco smiles up at him and meets him halfway for a kiss, Jean just closes his eyes and sighs.


End file.
